


The Adventure of the Hyphen

by CloudsPanties



Series: Werewolves of London [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Divorce, Engagement, Gags, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-09
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:59:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/455186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloudsPanties/pseuds/CloudsPanties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft stresses, Mummy has tea parties, Greg gets a divorce, Mama Watson feeds Sherlock up, and two idiots get married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it took so long! I wanted to take a bit of a break from writing this, so I did. And when I started writing again I got sick half-way through! It's going to be another long one and I hope you'll all stick around to see it finished.
> 
> If you see any typos, please let me know. Sometimes they fall through the cracks. Enjoy!

John Watson always knew that he was the kind of man that would formally ask permission from his partner’s parents before proposing. He did _not_ know that it would involve taking a car more expensive than his doctorate to an estate just outside of London to ask permission from his werewolf partner’s equally lycanthropic mother.

 

The day after their lunch, Mycroft sent a car over to Baker Street around noon. Apparently, he had already planned for John to visit Mummy whether he liked it or not. Sherlock bundled him out to the car before John could protest and had the nerve to then look so nervous John couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it. They spent most of the ride practically cuddling in the backseat, though it made neither of them feel any less nervous.

When they arrived at the Holmes estate, it was very nearly two o’clock and Mummy’s assistant Elizabeth was waiting for them at the door.

“Hello,” she said in her perpetually relaxed voice. “Mrs. Holmes is waiting for you two in the garden.”

This did nothing to quell John’s fears of brutal torture and/or death. Rationally, he knew Mummy quite liked him and that there were worse things the two of them could have done. There was still a part of John insisting that this could only end badly and he should run and hide. Said part was quieted as John stood up straight and held Sherlock’s hand as they walked into the garden. Elizabeth led them to a small table near a large flowerbed where Mummy was already sitting and pouring tea for three.

“Hello boys!” she chirped, quickly standing and hugging both of them. “It’s so good to see you. You really must stop by more often.”

John forced a smile and nodded as they sat down. Sherlock only looked a little nervous now, though he insisted on holding John’s hand under the table. The garden grew quiet for a bit as the three of them sipped their tea and John tried to not hide under the table.

“Well, then, let’s just get straight to the point,” Mummy said. “Mycroft told me that Sherlock made a den and the two of you have not even discussed marriage.”

“Not until last night, no,” John confirmed. “Sherlock neglected to tell me until Mycroft nearly had a panic attack.”

“Sherlock!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Sherlock protested, looking down at his shoes. “I just… started denning and you know it’s nearly impossible to stop. I _tried_ to, but each time I did, I felt sick.”

“I know, dear. I _am_ disappointed in you, but I know that wolves sometimes can’t help such things. Do try to remember, however, that John doesn’t know all the social mores of werewolf culture.”

“Yes, Mummy,” Sherlock mumbled.

Mummy turned to John, though he spoke up before she could. He was absolutely convinced that she would admonish him or demand the dissolution of their relationship.

“I’m so, _so_ sorry this happened,” he said in a rush. “I had no idea that a den was so serious and I should have asked. I understand that we’ve gone about this all wrong, but I would be extremely honored and infinitely grateful if you would grant me your permission to ask Sherlock’s hand in marriage.”

Mummy gasped and covered her mouth as her eyes went wide. John braced for a denial or otherwise negative reaction, but instead Mummy went misty-eyed and nodded as she pulled out a handkerchief.

“Oh yes, yes, absolutely!”

“Thank you so much, Mummy,” John sighed, relaxing and slumping in his chair.

Nodding, Mummy hugged John tight and called for Elizabeth. The rest of the afternoon was spent sipping champagne in the garden and chatting happily, until Mummy noticed Sherlock looking tired and sent them home with an order to come back soon.

 

Although he had express permission and Mycroft breathing down his neck, John didn’t propose straight away. Not only did he have a plan for a spectacular proposal, John insisted that Sherlock meet his family before they got engaged. They specifically planned a trip to Northumberland for the full moon, just to be certain that everyone understood Sherlock’s condition.

They took a train from King’s Cross the day before the first full moon night. Sherlock had wanted to take the car Mycroft offered, but John vetoed that idea by pointing out that taking the train was quicker. Reluctantly, Sherlock agreed to take the train.

Within five minutes of boarding, Sherlock began to squirm in his seat. Train seats were not made with tall individuals such as Sherlock in mind, especially when they were leggy. John had tried to find a comfortable place for them on the train, but Sherlock still looked uncomfortable. By the time they had left London, Sherlock was huffing and looking disgruntled.

“Sherlock, are you alright, love?” John asked, placing his hand over Sherlock’s gently.

“I don’t… I don’t like trains. Too much data, too many people, too much noise.”

Nodding, John pulled a small bag from under his seat. He produced a pair of headphones from the bag and handed them to Sherlock before digging around again. The headphones were clearly of the noise-cancelling variety and purchased to replace the ones Sherlock had placed on the bison in the sitting room.

“Give me your phone,” John said, holding his hand out.

Sherlock obeyed hesitantly, placing his phone in John’s palm. John quickly opened up the music application and plugged the headphones in before handing the phone back to Sherlock. Finally, he moved the bag to sit at Sherlock’s feet.

“The headphones should keep everything but the music out. I put your favorites on your phone for the trip, and there are books in the bag. If there’s too much data, you should probably just close your eyes and relax. I’ll be right here the whole time, and if I need to get up, I’ll let you know.”

For a moment, Sherlock didn’t respond and just blinked at John as if he couldn’t process what John had just done. When it did process, Sherlock kissed him hard and smiled softly.

“Thank you, John. I appreciate this very much.”

Once Sherlock put the headphones on and John laced their fingers together on the armrest, the rest of the trip continued without incident.

 

As they pulled into the station, Sherlock shoved the headphones back in the bag at his feet and helped John gather their things. He had fallen asleep somewhere during the second hour and slumped on John’s shoulder through the countryside.

“Remember, Harry is picking us up. Please don’t be _too_ scathing,” John told Sherlock as the train slowed. “And there’s one more thing you didn’t deduce about me and Harry.”

“Oh? It’s usually just the one thing.”

“We’re twins. She’s six minutes older and loves reminding me.”

“Fraternal twins, _of course_! How do you continue to baffle me so, John?”

John simply winked and led Sherlock off the train.

 

Harry Watson looked very much like her brother. Their hair was the same exact shade of blond, they were both short with big, dark blue eyes, same smile… Sherlock catalogued all the physical similarities he could, certain the two of them didn’t have much else in common.

While Harry and John weren’t on fantastic terms, that didn’t stop them from hugging tightly as soon as they could. Despite Harry’s shortcomings and John’s stubbornness, they were still siblings no matter what. Of course, it helped that they had shared a womb.

“Harry, this is Sherlock, my partner,” John said, moving away so Harry could see Sherlock.

“Hello,” Harry said and smiled as she held her hand out.

Sherlock took her hand, noting the slight tremble as they shook hands. She hadn’t been drinking then, which meant that this visit would be going a bit easier. As requested, Sherlock kept any other deductions to himself but filed them away for later use and assessment.

“Hello, Harry,” Sherlock replied with a forced smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Oh, I know that look,” she laughed. “You don’t have to pretend. I know you must be anxious about meeting Mum.”

Scowling, Sherlock withdrew his hand and shoved it into his pocket. Harry led them to her car, chattering away with John about their family and the town. Apparently, not much had changed in their mother’s neighborhood and their next-door neighbor still asked after John regularly. The small town cliché made Sherlock sneer, though he did his best to hide it from John.

“So Sherlock,” Harry started as they got in the car. “How long have you been together?”

“We started dating in the spring, so only a few months.”

“And how long have you been shagging?”

“A month. You know all of this, why are you asking?” Sherlock demanded.

“I want to hear it from you. And I love messing with John’s dates,” Harry said, grinning at him.

“I’m not his date,” Sherlock snapped. “I’m his partner. I intend to marry John.”

“Oh. Oh, Johnny, you never said!”

“It was _supposed_ to be a surprise after he met you and Mama,” John grumbled. He was already upset about being put in the backseat due to Sherlock’s long legs and this wasn’t helping.

“I apologize,” Sherlock said, turning in his seat and tugging John close for a kiss.

“It’s alright, love.”

Harry smiled as she turned onto their mother’s street, happy for her brother and enjoying their adorable display.

“I see you’ve tamed him,” Harry commented. “I remember when you were constantly fighting to not beat the piss out of him.”

“He’s mellowed out a bit,” John replied and smiled fondly at Sherlock. “Being in love has been good to him.”

 

John’s mother lived on a quiet street in Alnwick, though the same could be said for nearly every street in Alnwick. The house itself was small but clearly a cozy family home. The front garden had bloomed into a riot of colors over the summer and the lawn was well-kept. Sherlock noted that the front door had recently been painted red, though it had apparently been that color for many years as John didn’t comment on it.

As soon as Harry pulled into the driveway, said door opened and a woman that could only be their mother hurried out to meet them. It was immediately obvious where John and Harry got their hair and eye color, though their mother was average height. She was smiling excitedly and hugged John tight when he got out of the car. John made a squeaking sound but returned the hug.

Once she was satisfied, Mrs. Watson moved away and stared up at Sherlock. He blinked at her owlishly, trying not to look as nervous as he felt. After a moment of staring, Sherlock found himself enveloped in an equally bone-cracking hug.

“So this is Sherlock! It’s lovely to finally meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Watson.”

“Call me Mama, dear. Everyone does.”

“Yes, Mama, it’s very nice to-“

“You’re much too thin, dear,” Mrs. Watson said as she poked Sherlock’s ribs. “John, aren’t you feeding him?”

“Yes, Mama,” John grumbled. “He’s just… always thin. He weighed less when we met but he doesn’t look much different.”

Mrs. Watson stared at Sherlock for a moment, poking along his torso and feeling his ribs. She looked very displeased with whatever she found.

“How long are you two staying again?” she asked.

“A week,” Sherlock answered and suddenly feared for his life.

“I think you can gain about a stone in that time. Don’t you think so, Harry?”

“Oh, at least!” Harry agreed.

 

Mama Watson immediately got to work on plumping Sherlock up. The four of them went inside for tea, which quickly became an excuse for shoving sweets at Sherlock. Surprisingly, however, Sherlock didn’t seem to mind. He let milk and sugar be put in his tea and eagerly partook in the heaping plate of biscuits set on the table.

“You didn’t tell me you like sweets so much,” John said, smiling as Sherlock sipped his tea.

“You didn’t tell me your mother was a baker,” Sherlock replied.

“Most mums bake, Sherlock. Mine just happens do to so professionally.”

It was too late, though. Sherlock already had another biscuit in his mouth with more waiting for him in the kitchen. Gain a stone indeed.

 

After dinner (during which Sherlock _cleaned his plate_ and frightened John), Mama Watson dragged Sherlock off to the couch with the promise of photo albums, leaving John and Harry to clean up.

“Did Mama put drugs in those biscuits?” John asked as they washed dishes.

“If dark chocolate and vanilla are drugs, yes she did,” Harry replied with a smirk.

“I’ve never seen him eat like that, not even with his own mother. Do you think he’s just doing it to make a good impression?”

“No one would eat that many biscuits just to make a good impression. You’re always telling me he won’t do anything unless he wants to. Why, are you afraid of him getting chubby?”

“I don’t care one way or the other,” John said and shrugged. “He could stand to gain some weight. It’s just… not like him, is all.”

Harry shrugged and continued washing up. Sherlock’s behavior was a bit strange, but maybe he just had a sweet tooth John hadn’t known about. Once they had finished clearing up, the two of them found Sherlock and Mama on the couch, laughing at a photo. John leaned close and blanched when he realized what photos they were.

“John, you never told me you grew your hair out in uni,” Sherlock teased.

“Oh, he stopped cutting it as soon as he got accepted!” Harry piped up. “John always wanted to join the army after medical school, so once he got into medical school he just… stopped cutting his hair. Can’t have long hair in the RAMC, after all.”

Smiling, Sherlock turned the page and found more photos of John and Harry in university. Most of the photos John was in featured him dirty in his rugby uniform, though in some of them he was clean and smiling with his arm around his sister. Further back in the book were photos of John and a brown-haired man Sherlock assumed was a close friend.

“Oh, and there’s Brad!” Mama said, pointing to one of the photos. “He was John’s first real boyfriend, you know. He came to visit us over break one year. John was absolutely smitten with him, much like he is with you.”

“Alright, Mama, that’s enough of that,” John declared, trying to close the album.

“Calm down, John. I’m enjoying this,” Sherlock said. “You’ve seen the albums of my childhood; I think it’s only fair I get to see yours.”

Grumbling, John sat next to Sherlock on the couch while Harry left to turn the kettle on.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry about the length of time between chapters. I've been plotting the story and doing paperwork to transfer colleges. Now that the plot's taking a much more clear shape, things should go a bit quicker. Next weekend I'm going to Maine, however, so there will be no updates July 28 or July 29.
> 
> Also, **Sherlock gets gagged** because he is a loud little shit. If that's not your thing, just skip the sex.

When the two of them went to bed that night after a shower, Sherlock rolled around in the sheets. He couldn’t seem to get comfortable in the bed, flopping around until John sighed and sat up.

“What is it?” he asked. “Something’s wrong or you’d be asleep right now.”

“The sheets are… uncomfortable. They aren’t used often enough to have lost the stiff quality new sheets have.” Sherlock paused. “And they do not smell like our bed.”

“We can wash them tomorrow, love. Just try to get some sleep for now.”

Huffing, Sherlock glared at John.

“There isn’t anything I can do right now, love. Try to relax.”

“We could have sex. I’d like to have sex.”

“No, Sherlock. Not in my mother’s house in the room I grew up in.”

“Why not?”

“Because my mother is down the hall, and you’re loud.”

“I can be quiet. It would make me more comfortable if we could have sex.”

Sighing, John flopped onto his back and covered his face with his hands.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “Hurry up before I change my mind and go to sleep.”

Sherlock didn’t need to be told twice. He hurried out of bed and to his bag, pawing around in it until he found the lubricant and condoms. When he settled on John’s lap, Sherlock showed him what else he’d brought.

“What’s the bandana for, love?” John asked, placing his hands on Sherlock’s hips.

“To keep me quiet, kitten.”

“You know exactly when to call me that, don’t you?”

Smirking, Sherlock kissed John and shifted to fold the bandana on his partner’s stomach. They were still fully clothed, but the act was more erotic than it had any right to be.

“If you’re going to be gagged, we should figure out a safe… gesture,” John said, running his thumb over Sherlock’s hipbone.

“Do you know BSL?”

“I know the alphabet.”

Sherlock paused his folding and spelled something quickly with his hands to check John’s proficiency.

“That was ‘stop,’ right?”

“Indeed. We’ll use that then.”

Returning to his folding, Sherlock shifted his hips a little just to tease. John gasped, having not expected the movement. He continued to move against John as he folded, keeping them both interested through the task. Once he deemed the folding done, Sherlock handed the bandana to John and held still while his partner slid it between his lips and tied.

“Try to speak,” John prompted.

Sherlock managed a mumble around the cloth, but it was unintelligible and extremely muffled. Satisfied with this, John rolled them and started stripping Sherlock quickly. Their pajamas were promptly scattered around the room, tossed in every direction in their haste to move along. Once they were naked, John settled between Sherlock’s legs and immediately started biting and kissing his neck. The sounds Sherlock made were muffled, but John knew he was enjoying being marked.

After leaving a love bite behind Sherlock’s ear, John grabbed the lube and started to prepare him. John still took that part slowly, no matter how worked up the two of them got. Sherlock’s body would grow used to regular sex - in fact already was - but the experience was still new enough that it also calmed both of them to go through the process.

While John stretched and opened him, Sherlock writhed and panted around the cloth in his mouth. A sharp inhale was all the noise he made when John massaged his prostate, unlike the usual howl Sherlock let out. It made for a nice change, but John found that he preferred Sherlock as his noisy self. Still, it wouldn’t do to have him making that much noise at the moment.

“Ready to move on, love?” John asked, biting Sherlock’s neck gently.

Sherlock nodded, whining against his gag. After another nip, John pulled away and grabbed the condom Sherlock had gotten earlier. He opened the package and rolled it on quickly before settling between Sherlock’s legs. Just as Sherlock was certain John was going to push into him, John rolled them and placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips.

Catching on quickly, Sherlock sat up and lifted his hips. John reached down and held his erection for Sherlock to sink down on, biting his lip to keep from moaning as he did just that. Sherlock paused once his hips were flush with John’s, breathing harshly through his nose as he adjusted. After a minute or two of panting and squirming on John’s lap, Sherlock planted his hands on John’s stomach and used the leverage to push himself up. Gasping, John dug his nails into Sherlock’s hips as he moved and bit his lip even harder to keep quiet.

“You’re gorgeous, love,” John whispered, moving one hand to cup Sherlock’s cheek. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

Sherlock nuzzled John’s hand as he lifted and dropped his hips, panting from both the exertion and arousal. It didn’t take long before his movements became erratic and his nails scratched at John’s stomach. When John quietly asked if he’d like to get on his back again, Sherlock nodded and immediately lifted himself off John before lying down on the bed. John slid back inside him easily, murmuring sweet nothings against Sherlock’s neck as he set a hard and quick pace. Sherlock began to get vocal despite the impromptu gag, howling, growling, and moaning against the cloth as he scratched down John’s back.

Soon Sherlock’s breathing became erratic and John took pity on him, removing the gag so Sherlock could get a proper breath in. He remained quiet aside from a few soft noises and the sounds of his heavy breathing, though John moved to kiss him when he noticed the tell-tale signs that Sherlock was close to orgasm. Sure enough, just after their lips met, Sherlock came with a throaty groan that was muffled by John’s mouth. John followed quickly after, biting at Sherlock’s shoulder and moaning into the soft skin.

After a few moments of post-coital cuddling, John carefully pulled out of Sherlock and got out of bed. He grabbed Sherlock’s dressing gown (he was suddenly glad the damn thing had to come with them) and pulled it on before kissing Sherlock’s forehead.

“I’m going to go clean up. I’ll bring you back a flannel,” he said. “Can you open the window while I’m out?”

Humming, Sherlock pulled John down for a kiss by the lapels of the dressing gown.

“Thank you, kitten. I’ll open the window a bit.”

Smiling, John gave him one last kiss before heading out.

 

In the morning, John woke up to Sherlock wrapped around him and Harry banging on their door. Grumbling, he poked his head out of the sheets just as she opened the door.

“Good morning!” she chirped as she poked her head in, “Mama made panca- ooh, someone got lucky last night.”

John made a growly sound in his throat, clearly displeased with having been woken up. Next to him, Sherlock burrowed into the blankets and pulled them over his head. Sighing, John sat up and rubbed his eyes.

“What time is it, Harry?”

“Almost ten,” Harry replied. “Mama thought you might like a bit of a lie-in after travelling yesterday. Best have a shower before you come down for breakfast, though.”

“Yeah, we will. Tell her we’ll be down soon.”

 

John and Sherlock decided that it would be best to tell Mama and Harry about Sherlock’s lycanthropy at tea, as it was close to sunset and a relaxed time. Once they were all gathered and Sherlock’s tea had enough milk and sugar to satisfy Mama, John cleared his throat.

“Mama, Harry, there’s something we need to tell you,” he said.

“I’m a werewolf,” Sherlock added, getting straight to the point. “It sounds ridiculous, but I assure you it is a very real condition. I will be changing in a short while. We wanted to visit during a full moon so I could show you, just to be sure you understand. I assure you I am not dangerous.”

The room grew quiet for a moment, with Mama and Harry just staring at Sherlock while he casually sipped his tea. Eventually, it sunk in and Mama buried her face in her hands.

“He’s a werewolf and I gave him chocolate!” she wailed. “I could have killed him!”

“I was never in any danger, Mama,” Sherlock told her. “It’s perfectly fine for me to eat chocolate. In fact, I quite like it.”

“Oh, thank goodness. I was worried for a moment, love. Eat your biscuits.”

 

Following Sherlock’s transformation, he trotted into the sitting room and sat at John’s feet. John reached down and scratched behind his ear casually, making Sherlock’s tail wag and hit the sofa.

“Oh, aren’t you precious!” Mama cried, moving to sit with John. “Come here and let me pet you, love.”

Sherlock happily moved over to her and rested his head on her knees. Mama wasted no time, petting and scratching him as his tail repeatedly hit the couch. Eventually, she patted the cushion between herself and John. Sherlock didn’t hesitate before jumping on the couch and spreading out over everyone on it.

“He’s so… different now,” Harry said, moving to get in on the pets.

“You get used to it,” John told her. “He’s happier and more affectionate. He’ll also want a walk soon.”

Sure enough, Sherlock eventually moved to the door and sat there expectantly. John fetched his leash and collar from the guest room, clipping them on before putting his shoes on.

“We won’t be long, but you can come with us,” John offered.

Sherlock yipped happily at the suggestion, his tail wagging into a blur. Laughing, Harry got up and put her shoes on.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” she said, ruffling Sherlock’s fur affectionately. “It’s not every day you get to walk your brother’s partner.”

 

Once he had marked most of the neighborhood, Sherlock decided it was time to head back. Mama had a water bowl waiting for him in the kitchen, which earned her affectionate licks.

“I’m going up to get ready for bed, love,” John told him. “Come upstairs when you’re ready.”

John said good night to Harry and saw her to the door before going upstairs, where he said good night to Mama before retreating to the guest room. When he came back from brushing his teeth after changing into pajamas, Sherlock was on the bed with his face buried in John’s shirt. John joined him with an affectionate smile, curling up around Sherlock and falling asleep quickly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHAHAHAHAHAHA I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON. Paperwork. Hit a wall. More paperwork. Again, I apologize profusely and hope you all enjoy the chapter.
> 
> [Here](http://www.alnwickgarden.com/) is the Alnwick Garden Website, which I may have gotten distracted exploring and wishing to visit. There isn't a ton of information about the plants, so I took the ones listed and Googled them. While there's some variance, [this](http://www.scotclans.com/scottish_clans/clan_watson/) is basically the Watson tartan and the website I found most useful.
> 
> Please enjoy and should you find a typo, please let me know.

On the third day of their visit, John lured Sherlock to the Alnwick Garden by promising to take him to the Poison Garden. Admittedly, he had planned on taking Sherlock there anyway.

They spent the morning wandering through the other gardens, taking a few moments extra at the bee hives. As the morning went on, John started to check his watch more often. Sherlock didn’t comment on it, choosing to enjoy the bees and comment on plants instead. Just before one o’clock, Sherlock found himself being herded toward an enormous treehouse and across a rope bridge.

While Sherlock inspected the walls ( _pine, redwood… cedar_ ), John marched over to the hostess station and had what appeared to be a pleasant, if short, conversation. She led them to a table near a window, smiling as she set down menus and ensured that their server would be around shortly. Fairy lights were strung up all around the restaurant, providing sources of soft light along with small lanterns on each table. The whole set up was warm and earthy, and John seemed to belong there.

Their lunch was lovely and quiet despite the constant flow of people. Families were in and out through the whole meal, the children squealing with delight and bouncing along the bridges. John caught Sherlock watching them with a fond expression instead of the scowl and glare reserved for noisy children.

“You know, we never did discuss children,” he said with a smirk.

“What’s to discuss?” Sherlock countered. “I’m not particularly interested, yet you clearly are.”

“I’m not blind, Sherlock. I see how you look at kids, not to mention your little speech when I asked you what a den was.”

Huffing, Sherlock focused on his lunch instead of responding. Eventually the comfortable quiet became awkward silence and he set his fork down with an almost-growl. The noise seemed to surprise him, making Sherlock furrow his brows and frown.

“I apologize for growling; it’s the moon,” he mumbled. “But… perhaps one child would be nice.”

“I think you’d be a great dad,” John replied, squeezing Sherlock’s hand. “If we do have any kids, though, I’d like to wait a bit.”

“That’s understandable. A conversation for another day, then?”

“For another year, I think,” John laughed.

 

After their lunch, John and Sherlock slowly wandered to the Poison Garden hand-in-hand. The display of affection was unusual for them, but neither seemed to mind. Sherlock was in a good mood, while John was pleased that everything was going according to plan. Sherlock managed to keep his mouth shut during the guided tour of the garden and even seemed surprised that the guide was apparently getting most everything correct.

When they passed under a laburnum tree, John tugged on Sherlock’s hand to keep him from continuing on.

“Sherlock, wait,” he said, pulling Sherlock closer.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked. “Is it your leg?”

“I’m fine, love. I just… you like laburnums, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do enjoy them. Very aesthetically pleasing, commonplace even, though also incredibly poisonous in the right quantity. A good choice of poison, considering the death would look more like a violent fit than a poisoning.”

John nodded, looking up at the blooms as Sherlock chattered about the tree. When Sherlock stopped talking and turned his attention to watching the flowers move in the light breeze, John took advantage of the opportunity. Quickly and quietly, he pulled a small box out of his pocket and cleared his throat.

“Sherlock,” he said, opening the box one-handed while still holding onto his partner. “I, um... I know we’re already technically… Will you marry me?”

“What?” Sherlock asked, looking down at John’s hand in surprise. “Oh. Yes, of course I will.”

Smiling, John let go of Sherlock’s hand and pulled the simple ring out of its box.

“I didn’t know if it was okay to get silver, so it’s, um, it’s white gold.”

“Excellent choice; silver is one of the few things that is dangerous to me both as a human and a wolf.”

“Good job I thought ahead,” John teased. “Before you put it on, one last thing.”

John tilted the ring so the inside caught the light, revealing a simple etching. Had it been colored, it would have been a red cross like the one John had worn on an armband while in uniform. The small touch made Sherlock smile.

“How very thoughtful and romantic,” he said, holding his left hand out for John.

Laughing, John slid the ring on Sherlock’s ring finger and pulled him close. The resulting kiss bordered on inappropriate, but neither of them could be bothered to care.

 

When the two of them returned that evening, Mama Watson had dinner on the table already. As Sherlock took a seat, she noticed the ring on his finger and gasped. She rushed over and took his hand in hers and spun the ring slowly.

“Sherlock, is this…?” she asked softly.

“Yes, we got engaged this afternoon,” he confirmed with a smile.

The resulting squeal from Mama was very nearly supersonic.

 

John followed Sherlock upstairs after the two of them cleaned up the kitchen and dug in his bag as Sherlock stripped down for his change. When he found what he wanted, John presented a small, flat box to Sherlock. Puzzled, Sherlock opened it to reveal a new collar, complete with an identification tag.

“I just thought you might like something to wear as a wolf,” John mumbled. “It’s Watson tartan.”

Sherlock inspected the design and tags, smiling when he discovered only immunization records (obviously acquired with Mycroft’s help) and contact information. The only name on the tag was John’s.

“Thank you, kitten,” Sherlock said and kissed John’s cheek. “It’s lovely. You can put it on in a few minutes. If you could just step outside for a moment?”

“Of course.”

Respecting Sherlock’s request for privacy during his transformation, John left quietly and waited until Sherlock barked to be let out. His tail wagged in record time when John clipped the new collar around his neck.

 

John spent a few hours of the next day with Harry, leaving Sherlock and his mother alone to bond. Harry seemed to be doing much better lately and John actually enjoyed their time together. They exchanged stories about their lives, ranging from the growing herd of neighborhood cats lurking at Harry’s back door to the strange things John found in 221B’s refrigerator.

When John returned to Mama’s house, he heard talking from the kitchen. He approached quietly, smiling fondly when he saw what they were up to. Next to his mother was Sherlock, his sleeves pushed up and a ridiculous plaid apron complete with ruffled edges and the strings tied in a huge bow over his clothes.

“Use more dough, dear,” Mama instructed quietly. “You’ve got big thumbs so you ought to use more dough.”

Sherlock stopped as he reached for the bowl of dough between them and turned to the doorway. There was a smudge of flour across his nose, along with a dusting in his hair.

“I thought I smelled you,” he said. “How was your time with Harry?”

“It was good. What are you doing?”

“Mama is teaching me to bake. It’s simple chemistry, and she informed me that thumbprint biscuits are your favorite.”

“Do you want me to leave you to it?” John asked, trying to wipe the flour off Sherlock’s nose.

“Yes, please go relax. I will bring you biscuits when they’re finished.”

Nodding, John kissed Sherlock quickly and swatted his ass with the hand that had wiped the flour away. Sherlock scowled and tried to get rid of the resulting handprint to no avail. John exited the kitchen giggling.

 

In the evening, Sherlock curled up on the couch with his head on Mama’s lap. John sat beside her and rubbed Sherlock’s belly absently. Every so often, Mama would hold a biscuit in front of Sherlock’s muzzle and he would gently take it from her hand, his tail practically beating John in his happiness.

“You’ll definitely put that stone on him,” John laughed, moving Sherlock’s tail away.

“He just needs a little bit of meat on his bones.”

“I don’t know how you manage it, but he never listened to me when I told him to eat more.”

“I dealt with a pair of stubborn twins for eighteen years, John. I know how to get petulant children to eat.”

Sherlock huffed and twisted to glare at Mama. In response, she swatted his nose.

“None of that, young man. You’ll spend the night outside on a rope,” she warned.

Sufficiently cowed, Sherlock quieted and cuddled the two of them again. John ruffled the fur between his ears and leaned over to kiss Sherlock’s forehead.

“Someone has to put you in your place, love.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear sweet Castiel I am so sorry it took me almost a year to update. I got really busy with classes and when I wasn't, I didn't feel comfortable enough around my roommate to write. That won't be a problem next year! Y'all probably weren't too worried, but I was fine these last several months and really enjoyed my first year on-campus. Aside from the roommate issues.
> 
> Anyway, I struggled with this chapter long enough! I hope you all enjoy this chapter, since you waited so long for it. I really appreciate all of y'all that stuck it out and waited so patiently! I can't thank you enough. <3

After that, Sherlock wouldn’t become a wolf for another month, so John packed him up and took him just outside of town the next night. John had Sherlock drive the two of them out to a large field with only a few trees in sight. Working quickly, he grabbed the blanket and basket from the backseat and dragged Sherlock out to the middle of the field. Sherlock caught on quickly and helped spread the blanket before settling on it with John.

“Harry and I used to come out here when we lived at home,” John explained, pulling the basket close. “Our parents took us here as kids and we just kept coming.”

As Sherlock watched, John set out two wine glasses and a bottle of wine. His left hand shook a little as he uncorked it, worrying Sherlock. He kept his worries quiet for the moment and accepted a glass of the wine from John instead.

“We would come out here and watch the stars. I know you don’t care about that sort of thing, but I thought it would be something nice to do. Can’t see the stars like this in London.”

Sherlock made a noncommittal noise as he sipped his wine and watched the stars. After a few moments of silence, he turned to John and raised his eyebrows.

“You brought me here to talk,” he said. “So talk.”

“I just thought… I thought I might as well tell you more about my family. I know so much about yours.”

“I seem to be unable to deduce certain details of your family, since I missed both Harry’s gender and the fact that you are twins.”

“Well, you can’t have everything,” John teased, grinning at his fiancé. “I’m sure you’ve already figured out a lot about us, though.”

Sherlock made a humming noise as he lifted his glass again. Rolling his eyes, John set his glass aside and stretched out on the blanket. It wasn’t long before Sherlock was snug against his side and shoving his face in John’s neck.

“This is about your father, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, it’s about my father.”

“Go on, then,” Sherlock prompted, snuggling close.

“Mama divorced him while Harry and I were in college. His relationship with Harry had always been… not great and went downhill when she came out. Mama wasn’t happy about it but it wasn’t that bad until I came out as well. She couldn’t deal with how he treated us, especially over something we couldn’t control, so she divorced him.”

“My father passed away when I was in university,” Sherlock said after a long pause. “He hadn’t been ill at all and then one day Mummy called to tell me I needed to come home. We had actually been quite close. Father supported my eccentric interests and hobbies as a child.”

“I’m sorry, love. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to actually lose a parent and not just have an asshole parent.”

Snorting, Sherlock burrowed further into John’s side.

“He would have liked you,” he mumbled, smiling against John’s throat.

 

When it came time for John and Sherlock to return home, Harry made Sherlock weigh himself just for laughs. He had, in fact, gained a few pounds while visiting, causing him to scowl and stomp about the house. It did not, however, stop him from accepting the large tin of biscuits Mama presented him with.

 

The train trip home turned out much better than the trip to Northumberland. Sherlock fell asleep on John’s shoulder not even twenty minutes after leaving the station and didn’t wake up until they were almost back in London.

“Good morning, love,” John said, kissing his forehead. “Do you want your headphones now?”

Sherlock nodded sleepily, stretching as best as he could in the train seat. John handed him his headphones and watched Sherlock put them over his ears. Once Sherlock had them on with his music playing, John pulled him close again. They stayed curled together for the rest of the trip, with John reading as Sherlock dozed and read over his shoulder.

 

About a week after they returned home, a distraught Lestrade appeared on their landing. He looked an absolute mess and John couldn’t help but drag him to the kitchen for tea.

“Sherlock’s out at the moment,” he said as he put the kettle on. “Off getting something for one of his mad experiments, I think.”

“It’s not a case, John,” Greg mumbled, scrubbing his face with his hands. “We’re getting a divorce. She had the papers sent to the Yard.”

“Jesus, Greg. I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do to help?”

“A cuppa would be a good start.”

Nodding, John got up to get their mugs ready. He had known it was only a matter of time before Greg’s marriage dissolved permanently, but it was still shocking. After the kettle had whistled and the tea started steeping, John sat down across from Greg at the kitchen table.

“Really, though, is there anything we can do?” John asked again.

“I’ll be alright, John. I just need to find somewhere to stay until I can find a flat.”

“Sherlock will probably have a suggestion. Some days I think he has connections to half the city.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Greg agreed, smiling faintly.

John took the opening and started speculating on which connections Sherlock had and how he got them, hoping to steer the conversation away from the divorce. By the time the tea was finished and set on the table, he’d succeeded in getting Lestrade to laugh. While they were sipping from their mugs, the front door banged open and slammed shut, followed by running footsteps up the stairs. John turned and smiled as Sherlock appeared in the doorway, flushed and holding a box under his arm.

“Hello, love,” John said, greeting him with a smile. “Did you get your chemicals alright?”

“I did,” Sherlock replied as crossed the room and kissed John. “Hello, Lestrade. Have you got a case for us?”

“No, not today. Just stopping in to have a chat with John.”

“Sherlock, Greg’s getting a divorce and in need of a place to stay until he can find a flat for himself,” John explained. “Do you know anywhere?”

“I think you already have one in mind, and I completely agree.”

“Sherlock and I think you should stay here,” John told Greg. “We’ll move Sherlock’s lab again and you can have the spare room until you can find a flat.”

“You don’t have to do that. I know how happy you were to finally get him out of the kitchen, and I wouldn’t want to put you out.”

“Greg, it’s really no problem. You’re our friend and we know it won’t be for long.”

“After all you’ve done for me, it’s the least I can do,” Sherlock added.

Sighing, Lestrade looked between them before nodding.

“Alright, but just for a week or two. But don’t think this gets you any special access to the Yard!”

Sherlock scowled and left the room for his lab, his coat providing the usual dramatic flair. John tried and failed to hide his smile behind his mug before bursting into laughter that proved infectious.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DAAAAAH! SO THE SAGA OF THE COMPUTER. I saved up and got a Chromebook to use until I could afford to get a laptop with my scholarship this past semester. I've been slowly picking away at this chapter since then! I can't seem to update this damn thing with any regularity, though. I'm really sorry about that, and I can only hope that what I do post makes up for that.
> 
> Happy New Year, everyone! Best of luck in the coming months, and I hope season three is everything you wanted.

A few days later, Sherlock’s lab was in the kitchen again, and Lestrade was moving a few things into the spare room. Mrs. Hudson had started to treat him like she did John and Sherlock the moment John asked if it was alright that Lestrade stayed for a bit, which was obviously a very big yes.

Of course, Greg’s moving in resulted in a few ground rules and changes, mostly for Sherlock. While Greg insisted that he didn’t really mind if Sherlock wandered around in nothing or next to it, John in turn insisted it was only polite. The rule he was only too happy to have instated, however, was that nothing sexual would be happening outside of their bedroom. Sherlock moped about it and complained, but John stood firm.

There were other, smaller rules, of course, including where Sherlock could and could not place any components of his experiments, when not to be a noisy bastard, and ‘you can’t follow me to every crime scene.’

Sherlock followed most of them.

 

As the next full moon approached, Sherlock and John spent John’s day off sprawled on the sofa. Sherlock curled himself around John, who stroked and otherwise played with Sherlock’s hair.

“We haven’t made any plans for our wedding yet,” John mumbled as he ran his fingers through messy curls.

Sherlock made a low humming noise to let John know he was paying attention.

“Do you have any ideas? We should probably start with a date.”

“January 29th,” Sherlock replied immediately.

“Why?”

“It will be exactly a year since we met on that day.”

“And you say you’re not romantic. That’s not too soon for you?”

“No, it’s fine. I want it to be that date and waiting another year won’t do.”

“Please tell me you don’t want to have it in the morgue or the lab at Bart’s,” John pleaded, scratching behind Sherlock’s ear absently.

“I enjoyed that treehouse in the Alnwick Gardens, actually.”

“Well, that answers some of the bigger questions. I’m not looking forward to the little details, though.”

“We could always make Mycroft take care of them,” Sherlock said, and John could feel him smirking into his jumper.

“No, I want to do it. It’s our wedding, so we should take care of it.”

 

“John, what is the point of an engagement party?” Sherlock asked one day shortly after the full moon.

“Who’s having one?”

“We are, apparently,” Sherlock replied, handing him an envelope.

Sighing, John opened the envelope and took out the card inside. The ornate font on it declared that there would be an engagement party at the Holmes estate for the two of them in the afternoon on Halloween.

“This must be something Mummy and Mycroft planned,” Sherlock said, scowling at the card.

“Definitely. Most people don’t have these anymore, you know. I think we’re only having one because your family’s important werewolves.”

“Tedious,” Sherlock hissed. “Now I’ll miss any interesting cases Lestrade gets.”

“I’m sure he’s been invited, too,” John said, attempting to soothe Sherlock. “And there will be plenty of interesting cases when we get back.”

 

The party turned out to be exactly what John expected: an opportunity to show him off to various relatives, pack members, and other allies of the Holmes family. That wasn’t to say that it wasn’t a good time, however. Mummy had the party catered with an open bar, meaning even the snippiest relatives were at least civil. Sherlock dressed even nicer than usual and didn’t complain when John’s eyes lingered a little. They were encouraged to be affectionate, though that began to wear on Sherlock’s nerves after a bit. Lestrade did attend, though he surprised everyone (except Mummy, who suggested it) by bringing all of his children to the party.

“Uncle Sherlock!” Wendy exclaimed the moment she saw him, bolting across the garden and into his arms. “Do you like my costume? Your mum said I could wear it, ‘cause it’s Halloween.”

“It’s lovely, Wendy. You make a very pretty…”

“Batgirl,” John whispered in his ear. “She’s dressed as Batgirl.”

“You make a very pretty Batgirl, Wendy.”

Wendy beamed at him before wriggling out of his arms and running off to practically tackle Mycroft at the knees.

“She’ll be a rugby player, that one will,” Lestrade joked as he walked over with Jack in his arms.

“Lestrade, what is Jack wearing?” Sherlock asked, his voice suddenly flat.

“He’s dressed as a dragon. Just wait until I set him down and he starts walking.”

“Down!” Jack squealed, as if on cue.

Lestrade set him down, and Jack toddled over to John. His wings wobbled with him; his tail swished from the motion.

“Up!”

“Say ‘please,’ Jack,” Greg reminded him.

“Up, p’se.”

“Close enough,” John declared, picking him up. “Aw, Sherlock, look. His scales are shiny.”

“Adorable,” Sherlock deadpanned.

“You can admit you think he’s cute, love. It’s not like we’ll be taking him home to keep.”

Sherlock grumbled and wandered off, leaving John with Jack and his father.

“He’s just a bit grumpy because of the attention,” John said, wiggling Jack’s wing. “You’re adorable and everyone here will try to take you home.”

Jack giggled and shoved one of the claw-mittens attached to his sleeve into his mouth.

 

After finally getting away from the Lestrade children, John went off to find Sherlock. He wasn’t hard to find; he had snuck off to a quiet part of the garden and perched on a bench.

“How are you feeling?” John asked as he sat next to Sherlock.

“I just need a moment away from the party,” Sherlock told him. “It was getting to be too much.”

“Should I leave?”

“No, I’d like you to stay.”

“Alright.”

John rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. Sherlock draped his arm around John’s shoulders in return.

 

When the two of them returned to the party, John was surprised to find his mother and Harry chatting happily with Mummy and Mycroft.

“Mama! Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“We wanted it to be a surprise,” she said, hugging both John and Sherlock tight. “Mrs. Holmes – “

“You can call me Wanda, Fiona.”

“Wanda invited us down ages ago and asked us to stay at the estate! Isn’t that lovely?”

“You two planned a family weekend for all of us, didn’t you?” Sherlock mumbled, narrowing his eyes.

“We did!” Mummy confirmed. “I thought it would be a nice way to get to know each other better. We’ll be stuck with each other for a lifetime, you know.”

Both Sherlock and Mycroft began to protest, but Mummy stopped them with a sharp look.

“You might be adults, but I’m still your mother. Sherlock, you let Greg do his job for one weekend. He’s a detective inspector for a reason. Mycroft, you can take a weekend now and then to relax. You need time away from work.”

“Yes, Mummy,” Mycroft and Sherlock responded in unison, utterly defeated.


End file.
